saudade
by matter falls
Summary: There's a bit of Hinata in his crimson eyes. —Hinanami


and they  
talked, and looked away  
a lot  
doing the dance,  
her hand brushed up against his—

-:-

—fingers, stre-etched. He sits with a perfect posture, back landing a perfect curve against a stiff, fawn chair. His fingers sprawl along the black keypads on the elegant keyboard right before him. And he stares at it for a while, at the screen that reflects a dim fluorescence that is the only source of light in his darkdarkdark room. But his digits are already displayed out through several of positions. His thumb is brushing the smooth of the space-bar, and his forefinger is on the F5.

_Refresh, refresh, refresh. _

He doesn't know how many minutes have passed with him doing nothing. But then the minutes turn to hours in a passing heist and he lets his fingers roam around the keys, not pushing enough to emit a press, but only a light tap. He lets them glide around, from _a, s, d_ to the _1, 4, 7_ keys. He's like that, for a while. But it's not safe to assume that they were just an endless pick from random. To the eyes of someone average and normal, (Super High School Level—what? What?) …he's only dwindling and playing around with his hand hovering in objectless places. But what was he doing, really? What was he trying to do? What was he waiting for?

His gaze lifts to stare impassively at the desktop. There are no icons. But the wallpaper is a symbol of Hope's Peak, rendering it with a proud familiarity. And he should know, shouldn't he? He _would_, actually. Because he had laid his fingers on it before, and had fooled his own professors that he was on _their_ side, that he was on _Hope's_ side.

_Hn_, a scoff, and then, _it's all so bori—_

A knock erupts from the door of his room. His fingers twitch, and his throat clogs up at the thought of what he was _going_ to say, or think, for the matter. But no, he swallows, a small pant from his mouth and a sweat breaking out of his temple—_despite the room being sososo __cold_—there will be no way he would let that thought finish. There will be no way he was going to let all of their—_her_her_herher_her—efforts be wasted just because _it_ was eating him alive.

"Hinata-kun?" The voice on the other side is excited and bubbly and laced with effortless joy. "Hinata-kun! Naegi-san wants you to have lunch with all of us in the cafeteria! Isn't that great? If Naegi-san would call _me_, I would be so… so honored! Imagine—_the_ Super High School Level _Hope_ actually inviting _me_ for lunch! Aah… I don't think I'm such worthy of such a… huge and marvelous proposal! But I don't mean _that_ proposal though… Kirigiri-san might kill me! _Ahaha!_"

He twitches, sighing deeply through his nose before standing up from his place. There are pins and needles immediately brimming throughout his body. But he doesn't react, nor flinch, nor give any reaction. Casting a hesitant glance at the laptop he had shut and hid, he doesn't show it when he opens the door and lets the brighter lights of the (fake) academy's corridor come streaming in the darkness of his room. He doesn't show it when kind and anxious Komaeda starts spewing things about Naegi-san being awesome and amazing and _it's such an honor to be asked by Naegi-san to escort you, Hinata-kun!_ He sighs, feigning exasperation instead. And raises his hands before, chuckling. _Calm down, Komaeda. _And they continue on like that, because Komaeda no longer blurts out batshit insane things about hope since_ there's no need, Hinata-kun! The __real __HOPE is here! Aah… I'm so lucky to be in the same presence of the Ultimate Hope! I'm truly lucky!_ And also because Hinata is Hinata, despite the longer hair and sharper eyes and the fact that he knows things and can do things that he doesn't know, or couldn't do before.

He is Hinata. So he acts like Hinata.

Or so he tries.

* * *

He's surrounded by his old classmates.

Not all of them, though.

Souda was the first one to wake up, Naegi says. And then Kuzuryuu came following after. After that, in a seemingly twisted way of what one could call as a miracle—Koizumi, with her beautiful crimson hair longer, redder, and definitely not dead—wakes up. Togami, who is ruthless and cold and abounding with graceful arrogance, tells them all that now Koizumi is awake, the others were also obligated to wake—but, Togami adds with a fierce glint in his eyes, that at the end it will all depend on the person. Trauma wasn't a rare thing, today.

Komaeda was next. Fukawa, shrieking, came into the gymnasium one morning, yelling profanities about a guy with wildwildwild hair trying to kill her. And an apprehensive Naegi and a cool-headed Kirigiri immediately went on to settle things. The first time Komaeda laid his eyes on Naegi, he had immediately gone on to his best behavior. This had caused an eye-roll from Kuzuryuu, but even so, Hinata pretends not to see the disappointed and sad gleam in his eyes, and the clench of his fingers on the pants of his leg, because everyone knows who he was really waiting for, all this time.

They're all here. All of them; five. On days like this, where Naegi says that the Future Foundation hasn't gotten any advance precautions or updates about their current mission, they have a brief meeting together with their juniors. Naegi is seen almost never without Kirigiri or Togami by his side. That doesn't stop Komaeda from attempting to sit right next to him though. Souda has been here longer—and he had gotten used to things here. A bit. Kuzuryuu is at least thankful for Souda, and his comic-relief attitude. It is good, he thinks, for breaking the tension. Souda and Kuzuryuu had gotten closer. Stronger. Even Koizumi, who is still recovering since she's not like Komaeda, whose person he has been anxious to meet his whole life, is actually _here_.

(Because the person Koizumi is waiting is still there—_resting_; with her body curvier and taller and, oh goodness, there's something in Koizumi's eyes that tells Hinata how clearly Koizumi misses that person calling her, _"onee-chan"._ But is that what you call it? Souda brings flowers for the princess, refusing to shed tears, and grudgingly takes the position as the temporary caretaker for the darkness wannabe's hamsters—who've all grown bigger, and very much still not used to Souda and his electric-shock pink hair as they squeak and run around and _oi, hold still you little—!_ Kuzuryuu is still painfully in the state of denial, for his affections, and how he dearly misses tender and straightforward red eyes and gray, ashen strands.

And in a way, Komaeda is waiting for all of them too.)

Hinata stares at everyone, his mouth curling into a gentle and Hinata-like smile at the way Souda openly states his fantasies with his one and only, and how Koizumi annoyingly tells him to change his freaking clothes because he smells like hamster poo. There's a bright, honest sparkle with the way Komaeda is staring at Naegi in awe. And the said person consciously trying to eat his cereal in peace without having a glaring contest over his shoulders upon the manner Togami is boring holes into Komaeda's fluffy, bed-like hair. Kuzuryuu is currently engaging in a very awkward and yet very comfortable conversation with a certain purple-haired detective. And Hinata laughs in the midst of Kuzuryuu sighing in relief at the thought of finally having to talk with someone normal again.

Laughing is a very Hinata-like thing to do, after all. Especially since it's a must—having it been five months and a half since everything has settled into an endless haze of waiting and hoping. The Golden Trio—Naegi, Kirigiri and Togami—are expecting changes now. And slowly, they do—change, at least; still coping and still morphing into what that program's original intention was. And yet, there are only two things that they could, themselves, do.

And that's what everyone does—they wait, and hope.

He stops, and watches. A realization that has been dawning upon him with each day finally reaching to his core, and numbing him with a familiar ache; a kind that had made him taste the bitter comprehension of Hope's Peak abuse to his loyalty—made him feel cold and sad and lonely and _ah, this is so despair-inducing. _

Everyone… he thinks, each and every one of them is waiting for something—for someone.

Except for him.

Except for black-haired, red-eyed Hinata Hajime.

.

.

.

—

_**a/n:** this will be the fucking death of me. *drowns in feels*_


End file.
